Star Wars: Dawn of Insurrection
by Dethroned King
Summary: Stormtrooper Renee Meruo is a recent graduate of the Taris Imperial Academy, and she's proud to be a member of the Empire's elite. But when she witnesses a planetwide lockdown, an Imperial massacre, and last of all runs into a Jedi in hiding, will she stay loyal to her Empire or will she help a growing rebellion? Appearances from the Inquisitorius, Tarkin, and Darth Vader himself.
1. Prologue

_**BANDOMEER, MID RIM TERRITORIES**_

 _ **19 BBY, 0 DAYS BEFORE ORDER 66**_

PROLOGUE

 _There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no chaos, there is harmony._ Such altruistic words such as the ones that founded the philosophy of the Jedi Order seemed almost ironic during a time when the galaxy was currently trying to tear itself apart. Idealists, radicalists and warmongers - call them what you will - had called out blatant corruption in the Galactic Senate, countless star systems had seceded and formed the rebellious Separatist Alliance, and the galaxy had suddenly been engaged in the bloodiest conflict since the Republic's contraception.

With the bloodshed came death, a subject preached by the Jedi to be a mere transition of form, from body to the living force. The Jedi had maintained that in this passing there was no pain, there should be no pain, that it was a mortal thing to mourn those who had circumvented the veil. Instead they should be cherished and remembered, but celebrated instead of mourned. It had been the way of life for Jedi Knight Talonkas Varos since he was a youngling, barely old enough to speak but already taught the beliefs of the ancient religion. Yet this terrible war had called Talonkas's beliefs into question time and time again, and he was looking forward to see its end.

A general of the Galactic Republic, mostly owing to the fact that he held the title of Knight in the Order, Talonkas had led the 105th legion against the armies of battle droids and fiendish contraptions, each different and more deadly as the war had progressed, deployed by the insurrectionist Confederacy of Independent Systems. Political disagreements had been embroiled into Galactic Warfare, of the worst the galaxy had seen since the Republic's contraception. Countless worlds broken, wracked with laserfire and debris from the wreckage of fallen battleships. And Talonkas Varos, in it all, leading his men to try and save the Republic from certain doom. Such had been the pattern for three years, and above Bandomeer it was no different.

The arrowhead-shaped _Venator_ -class Star Destroyers formed a defensive line, three of the massive cruisers arranged in a triangular pattern. Various light cruisers, frigates, and corvettes were strewn between them, both taking advantage of the larger ship's presence as well as aiding the ship from the swarms of Vulture Droids, which in turn tried to overwhelm anything they could find. Opposite of the Republic line were the massive Confederacy _Providence_ -class cruiser-carriers, able to carry hundreds of vulture droids, tri-fighters, and bombers. Surrounding it were the various support ships and heavy cruisers of the Separatist themselves; _Recusant_ -class destroyers, _Munificent_ -class star frigates, _Lucrehulk_ -class carriers, all firing their multiple laser cannons and turbolasers, sending red streaks of laser fire that brightly contrasted with the ion blue of the Republic Navy. Between them all fighters of both side swerved and shot, dog fighting with each other as bombers unleashed their payloads on capital ships while they simultaneously tried to avoid the flak fire.

Talonkas was in the middle of it all. His _Eta_ -2 _Actis_ -class interceptor, a specially made light starfighter by Kuat Drives for Jedi use with one of the fastest sublight engines in the Republic Fleet, swiftly looped and barreled through Confederacy formations, flight patterns, targeting calculations and comm chatter all quickly being processed by his mind. The force flowed through him, aided his grip and his touch, made his mind clear and nimble. Most importantly, it brought a sense of calmness and peace, serenity in the midst of bloodshed and death.

Around him were several V-Wing interceptors and ARC-170 starfighters from the 386th Mobile Fighter Squadron, nicknamed _Bloodhound_ by their comrades for how fast the squadron was able to rack up confirmed kills. Violent, deadly, and yet easygoing making them easily compatible with Talonkas's lighthearted nature and partly the reason they had been assigned with Talonkas's fleet. Their squadron leader, Commander CC-2660 jokingly nicknamed _Copycat_ for his tactics that often mirrored his opponent, was even-tempered and took up a lot of comm chatter trying to relieve the stress and tension of his men with jokes and odd tales.

"General, you got a few buzzies on your tail. We have you."

 _Buzzies_. It was almost an affectionate nickname for the new missiles developed by the Confederacy, primed with dozens of tiny and dangerous Pistoeka Sabotage droids, otherwise known as buzz droids after the humming vibrations their plasma-steel blade made cutting into starship hulls. Extremely dangerous, any ship who caught a drove of buzz droids was certainly doomed, destined to quickly lose control of weapons systems, main drives, then lose full compression. Various phrases had quickly cropped up around them; 'Catching a buzz,' 'getting buzzed,' 'buzzies.' They were all light remarks to ease the tension on a serious and dangerous weapon, and even Talonkas's skill as a starfighter pilot and force user would hardly be enough to fight the parasitic droids. "It's about time, Dev. I was getting worried that you wouldn't show up," Talonkas replied evenly, concentrating on his task at hand; avoiding getting hit by the droid-packed projectiles.

The pilot in question, Dev, gave a short bark of laughter. The comm was silent for a moment, and then Dev's involuntary grunt of satisfaction came over; sure enough, two bright ionic-blue explosions marked where the missiles had just been before. Talonkas gave an exasperated shake of his head as a _Headhunter_ swerved past his starboard side before swaying to follow it, looping into a downwards attack spiral on a _Munificent_ Star Frigate. Quickly checking his proximity scanner, several blue icons showed that he had several friendly starfighters forming up around him, interceptors and starfighters alike, all jockeying for a viable position in the formation.

¨General, Seppies just took out the _Relevance_ 's primary communications tower. Inter-ship comms are completely dead."

Talonkas grimaced. With the _Relevance_ 's communications dead, the flagship of the small Republic fleet wouldn't be able to communicate with the other ships or her fighters deployed in battle. Without the transponder the starfighter's communications would be dead as well; inter-squadron comm channels would persist, but neither Talonkas nor the 386th would be able to talk with any other ships in the fleet. "Form up on me. Cripple this frigate's communications then redoubt to the _Relevance_. We'll see what we can do from there."

Confirmations that the squadron received the order echoed over Talonkas's transponder before it was drowned out by the incoming flak fire from the Separatist Frigate. Talonkas's little fighter ducking and swerving through the brightly colored blasts of laser and flak fire, projectiles hurtling at unimaginable speeds sometimes ripping whole starfighters in half. Several of the V-Wings and ARC-170s around Talonkas succumbed to the point-defense cannons, but more filled to take their place as they unleashed proton torpedoes and concussion missiles, as well as bright-blue laser fire back at the frigate.

Leveling out thirty meters above the hull of the frigate, flying horizontally to the _Munificent_ , Talonkas's interceptor began to curve as it came about, the back of the _Munificent_ 's forward-facing bridge now directly aligned into his targeting computer. Jiggling the controls slightly to level out the fighter, Talonas peered down his transparisteel viewport as his sights aligned. A direct hit could incapacitate the _Munificent_ and break the Separatist line.

Suddenly, a series of blaster bursts ignited his starboard wing, chunks of metal and flaming components ripping off of the wing as smoke began to pour from the melted crevasse. The interceptor shook, warnings blasting throughout the cockpit, red lights and flashing blips lighting up the interior of the starfighter. Talonkas's gloved hands gripped the controls tightly, trying to regain control of the craft even as it spun more and more out of control, now on course for a direct impact with the _Munificent_ 's bridge.

At the last moment Talonkas lurched across the starboard side of the bridge, the already-melted starboard wing scraping against the frigate's hull, sparks flying in the void of space. He silently cursed as he tilted his interceptor's starboard wing downwards, the wrenching ceasing as the starfighter sped past the _Munificent_. Talonkas's head was filled with a chaotic mix of numbers, calculations, and emergency procedures; taking a deep breath, he tried to regain his former sense of calmness and serenity. Yet his attempted meditation was interrupted by more laser fire; more of the same blue bursts of light, some leaving scorches against his fighter, most of them missing.

"Copycat, where are you? I'm getting swarmed by vulture droids!"

Talonkas's brief outburst into the transponder was in vain; looking at the dash he realized that the frequency was turned off, adding to his confusion. His stupor was once again interrupted by laser fire, and Talonkas was forced to dive into a series of evasive maneuvers. Keying the comm, he tried the frequency again. "To any Republic Forces that can hear me, this is General Varos. I'm being swarmed by fighters and require backup _immediately_."

Again, no reply from the transponder. The frequency was dead, yet the fire continued and Talonkas spun again, now leveling his ship to face again towards the _Munificent_ , expecting to see a hoard of unprepared vulture droids, Talonkas's laser fire already lighting up the void as he prepared to watch it burn the droid fighters into carcasses of seared metal.

He was surprised when they impacted, instead, an ARC-170 fighters. A deep intake of breath, a gasp of astonishment. Friendly fire had never been something that Talonkas had accidentally done, and he tried to course correct for the droid starfighters - except that there were no droid starfighters, and the viewport revealed only more ARC-170s and V-Wings. The gasp of astonishment turned into one of confusion. Why would his own starfighters, Republic starfighters, be firing at Talonkas? His little interceptor certainly was not at all similar to that of any droid model, and the starfighters had been right behind him all the time.

Talonkas's questioning was interrupted by blaster fire, confirming that his own fighters were firing out of him. Survival instincts took over, coercing his hand to punch the throttle as Talonkas's interceptor dodged and swerved as it sped forward, looping around the squadron before speeding past them one more, now on a direct path to the _Anthem_ , a second _Venator_ Star Destroyer. If anything at all, Talonkas would be able to notify Admiral Wiskovis of the unpredicted mutiny and sort out the confusion. To Talonkas's relief, the renegade starfighters seemed to break off as he began the descent into the _Anthem_ 's hangar bay.

Talonkas's small interceptor, dwarfed by the massive red hangar bays of the _Venator_ , began to slow as the effect of artificial atmospheric resistance produced by the ray shields and life-support systems of the Star Destroyer overtook the formerly effortless glide of the interceptor that Talonkas had enjoyed in space. Rear thrusters engaged as the damaged interceptor, smoke pouring out of its starboard wing and sheets of metal twisted and melted by the crossfire, settled into the aft section of the hangar.

With both hands on the transparisteel bubble that covered his cockpit, Talonkas pushed hard and waited for the release of the safety systems; a small click indicated that the pressure lock had been disengaged and the cockpit released, allowing Talonkas to jump out. He turned slightly to take in the damage on his fighter; quickly running his hand along a line of corroded and twisted metal, he paused to realise that he was probably lucky to still be alive.

Turning away from the fighter, he spotted two crew members and waved them over. Since the Republic had been utterly unprepared for a full galactic-scale war, the Clone templates had been modified to perform almost any logistic role possible; Clone officers, technicians, and ground crew had all sprung off the need for ranks upon file of support crew.

The technicians, donned with their highly visible yellow vests over blue anti-rad jumpsuits and flight helmets, quickly ran over from the LAAT/i transport they were tending. Talonkas was semi-surprised by the urgency in which the technicians responded, but he didn't necessarily disapprove of it; the sooner he got back into the battlefield and was able to contact Wiskovis and inform him of the situation.

Talonkas turned his shoulder, now facing his damaged fighter once again. "My starboard wing got nearly demolished; how fast can you get this thing patched up?"

He expected to hear a verbal response, and the click of an armed blaster pistol rang in his ears. The force suddenly tugged at his gut, once again taking control of him as it influenced his body to turn on the spot, to ignite his deactivated lightsaber and cut to a standard blocking position with his sapphire blade. It was just as soon, the blade barely raising enough in time to meet and deflect a bright-blue blaster bolt. The steam issuing out of the tech's holdout pistol was enough of a giveaway.

The Clone techs took a few moments to adjust; they had evidently thought they would catch the preoccupied Jedi by surprise. Nevertheless, their training and programming kicked in as their identical faces contorted into a snarl, firing their pistols at Talonkas. The near point-blank range made it a challenge for Talonkas to match the shots with his blade, but he managed all the same, his mind sowing away the confusion and surprise; the shock-filled anger being numbed by the force as it flowed through his veins, temporarily clearing his mind.

Another blaster bolt soared over the techs and hit its mark right next to Talonkas's head, burning a scorch into his already-seared starfighter. Shifting his gaze he saw that other Clone Troopers, this time soldiers with the full duraplast body armor, white except for uncleaned carbon scorches and streaks of dirt, mud and other environmental effects. Blaster rifles raised , they began slowly advancing at him as if to systemically wipe him out; and they were very good at it. The unending, random cadence of blaster fire was quickly beginning to take its toll on Talonkas, and he could feel his concentration and stamina slipping away by the second.

His mind was in survival mode, and he knew that the next best thing to holding his ground was escape. There were multiple hyperspace-worthy craft in the hangar bay, and if he could reach one it would provide him with refuge from the advancing Clones and a means of safe passage, most likely back to the Jedi Temple. There at least, surrounded by his fellow Jedi would he be assured safety.

Yet now was not the time for future planning, and the rapid volleys of blaster bolts was beginning to force Talonkas into a tight position; he would have to move or he would likely die, right then and there. Breathing outwards, he let the force course through his thighs and calves, let it sink into his very being as he gathered his strength. It had been a technique taught since he was a youngling, physical augmentation via the force, and he now used that knowledge to give him aid in his time of need. Squatting down before springing up, the force propelling him several meters into the air as he flipped his body, his lightsaber spinning with his torso and rebounding blaster bolts shot at him. Landing behind the line of troopers, he outstretched his left arm, closing his eyes as he once again allowed the force to flow through his veins, to travel from his being out against the Clone Troopers, reverberating in a powerful shockwave.

The force push threw the nearest troopers into the air, causing those further away to lose their balance or become temporarily disoriented. The Clone Troopers distracted, Talonkas immediately spun and sprinted towards the nearest hyperspace-capable ship available to him; a _Nu_ -class attack shuttle. Designed for two operators, a pilot and co-pilot, the lack of options and the incremental time given to Talonkas was forcing him to improvise, and he quickly clambered into the ship and into the frontal cockpit, sealing the pressure lock as he began powering the shuttle's main reactor, systems lighting up and pre-programmed flight diagnostics flashing on the shipboard console. Ignoring them, he grasped the flight stick and began jamming the buttons to initiate the main drive. Although he had never technically flown one of the attack shuttles before, the designs and layout was similar to the Republic ships he'd had the privilege to pilot, and the main engines quickly began to cough exhaust as the power and fuel was feeded into the thrusters.

Meanwhile in the hangar, klaxons had gone off and the normal fluorescent lighting had switched to the universal emergency-red. Clone troopers scrambled to their stations, initiating emergency containment procedures as pilots clambered into their cockpits, troopers fired at the transport as others set up autocannons, and officers ordered for the flight deck to seal the entrance into the hangar bay. Talonkas was quickly running out of time, and the urgency only caused him to jam the drive ignition harder; with a powerful roar of its engines, the attack shuttle burst off the ground, turning in a half loop as it exited the blue-tinged atmospheric ray shield and into the entrance flight path of the _Venator_ 's hangar bay. Thrusting the flight stick, the drives of the _Nu_ -attack shuttle kicked in as the shuttle speedily began racing with the Star Destroyer to see whether or not the tiny shuttle could break through the _Anthem_ 's defenses.

The red bay doors in which Talonkas had only minutes ago entered were now closing, narrowing the gap between the _Anthem_ 's hangar bay and the freedom of space every second. Sweat beaded in droplets on Talonkas's brow, and he swept his loosely-cut brown hair out of his eyes, his teeth tightly gritted as the pressure began to overwhelm him. Pulling back on the flight stick with a groan, the shuttle went from a horizontal flight path to one that was nearly vertical, the inertia of the steep curve nearly throwing Talonkas from his seat. The _Nu_ -class attack shuttle wasn't designed to be as nearly as agile as Talonkas's speedy interceptor, and in just the very first few seconds that fact was beginning to present itself.

The transport barely cleared the hangar, with its wingtips sending sparks as it scraped pass the closing hangar doors. Jostling the wings and doing a small spin, the shuttle was now clear of the _Anthem_ 's hangar, and one danger had just been passed. However, flak shells and laser blasts coming from the _Anthem_ 's own arsenal of point-defense cannons combined with the overall effect of battle, where no ship was friendly or an ally, presented a much further danger than the inside of the hangar bay.

The large attack shuttle ducked and weaved between blaster fire, Talonkas firing his weapons indiscriminately. Lasers and missiles traced out of the _Nu_ -class shuttle and hit their targets more often than not, clearing a path for Talonkas to escape through. One he cleared the Republic line, the last hurdle would be the offensive Separatist line, which would most likely not be keen on the idea of letting even a single attack shuttle across its parameter. Careful not to bite his upper lip in the event that the ship rocked or was thrown wildly, Talonkas pressed forwards on the joystick, leaning his whole body into the effort as the shuttle jumped forward.

Warning blips on his console told him he had several fighters on his tail, and sure enough on closer inspection they were ARC-170s, no doubt from the same squadron that had been trying to take his interceptor down just a few minutes earlier. Sweat continued to bead on Talonkas's forehead as he swerved his shuttle from starboard to port, trying to shake any potential missile lock the fighters would have on him. Another roll, another spin, and a blip again sounded out signalling that the shuttle was being shot at by the point-defense of the Separatist cruisers. Talonkas gave an involuntary grunt as his mind raced, his eyes pouncing back and forth between space, various flashing consoles, and scanners.

The race to get past the Separatist line quickly passed and now Talonkas was in semi-open space, nothing in between him and the freedom of hyperspace. Pausing to to clear his head, he ran his navi-computer through the various possible egresses into hyperspace, absorbing all the information and possible jumps he could make. He knew that the attack shuttle's range likely would not be long, so he'd have to carefully plan his-

 _Wham_. The shuttle started spinning out of control, smoke streaming out of what used to be the back half of the attack shuttle. Talonkas's few brief seconds of respite had earned him an easy hit from some attacking ship or vessel, and now he was paying for it. The cockpit interior turned a bright emergency-read as alarms blared warning him of pressure loss in the main cabin as well as failure of coolant systems. A glance at the hyperdrive computer revealed that it was still active, and more-so, out of control. The blow had completely annihilated the components for the navi-computer; as Talonkas furiously slammed his fist against the emergency shutdown button, he watched as the hyperdrive continued to power up. It was completely out of control, and a loss of navigation in hyperspace was likely death.

The red lights blared, and Talonkas absentmindedly grabbed an atmospheric mask, wrapping it around his head as his breathing was amplified through the carbon-filters of the life-support system. Warning signs indicated that the hyperdrive had completely powered up, and all Talonkas could do was watch as the tenets of reality slipped away into starry blue swirls. He had escaped; he was safe.

For now.


	2. Chapter 1

_**TARIS, OUTER RIM TERRITORIES**_

 _ **12 BBY, SIX YEARS AFTER ORDER 66**_

Chapter One

"To those who serve him, you have the Emperor's gratitude. Your lives will be from here on dedicated to the glorious and noble purpose of the Empire. Your blasters will be the sounding of trumpets, heralding a new era of peace, prosperity, and security for the Galaxy."

The words of Commandant Javita would ring in the ears of Cadet Renee Meruo for years to come. Four years spent training for battle, learning the history of the Empire and the galaxy, classes for mathematics and battlefield tactics, had led to this. Now, she stood proudly with the rest of her classmates - no, _comrades_ , fellow men and women in arms, as their platoon finally graduated and received their commissions in the Imperial Army. Now Lieutenant Meruo would not be some nameless cadet on one of the most worthless planets in the galaxy; no, she would be a Stormtrooper in the Emperor's grand army, the elites of the Imperial Military.

With the type of life that Renee had been thrust into, she hadn't had much choice between Imperial life or the streets. Born to a single mother who soon vanished, Renee had lived pretty much her whole life on the desolate, swamp-ridden and debris-filled slums of Taris. She had lived through the dreadful Clone Wars, watching it take its effect on her homeworld and the galaxy. Taris was not directly assaulted in the galactic conflict; the broken world was of no tactical or economic importance to either the Republic or the Separatist Alliance, and as such neither government had given much thought to it. The sole reason that Taris had been a Republic planet was the welfare system the Senate had set up, which despite its purpose only funneled the limited credits that the fund had to the elite upper class, the few thousand citizens of Taris who still had reasonable or even lucrative incomes and lived in walled cities, protected by hired security.

Yet for the rest of Taris, the Clone Wars had only resulted in the utter desolation of its populace, the Senate directing the welfare funds to the war effort as Taris slowly and more slowly became more impoverished. What had been poor neighborhoods dissolved into shantytowns of criminals; any sense of family or community died out with the Clone Wars, and everyday life had become a struggle to survive. With no one to fall back on or lean onto, Renee had already developed the skills as a street rat that enabled her to survive in poverty; she was tough and not afraid to hurt, maim, or even kill to satisfy her daily needs. She was mutually respected by the gangs that operated where she lived, and regarded as an informant or even at times allies. She hated the concept of organized crime, but she did what she had to survive.

The impoverished condition of Taris was what had garnered such a warm welcome to the Empire. Indeed, the legions of the Emperor had made a grand entrance as V-Wing starfighters and _Venator_ -class Star Destroyers descended into the lower atmosphere, Stormtroopers cleared the streets, staging public executions for any criminals or gang leaders, welfare stations and education systems implemented for the poor of Taris. Renee had joined the crowd who cheered when each blaster bolt seared through another murder's head. First the criminals and gangs had been routed, then the Empire began establishing manufacturing facilities, affordable housing apartments, and a police force first of stormtroopers, then volunteers. Even an Academy had been established on Taris to train a new generation of white body-armor clad troopers, and with the first chance given Renee had enlisted and ultimately been accepted.

The life of military starkly contrasted that of her childhood, and it was a change that Renee gladly accepted. Lawlessness and crime had been replaced by order and security. Renee had learned to mold and adapt the skills she had learned in her life of crime to that of the Imperial battlefield, she had learned to know both her allies and her enemies capabilities, how to tactically assess a situation in which she wasn't the only factor. Commandant Javita had noticed her progress and had soon put her in an advanced training platoon, accelerating the process as well as teaching skills such as battlefield command and tactical leadership. Now she had graduated the Academy as a Lieutenant with her own platoon of stormtroopers under her command. She had been an example of success, an icon paraded by the academy officials as a symbol of progress that the Empire was making with the citizens of Taris.

After several strenuous days of receiving assignments and data on her new commanding rank, reporting to her commanding officers and inspecting her platoon for the first time, she and her men found themselves once again on the streets of Taris, only a few dirty blocks away from her old prowling territory.

Unlike most things on Taris, the white body armor of the Stormtroopers were clean of grime and grit, impeccably scrubbed for hours on end by both cleaning droids and the soldiers themselves at the end of ever shift. _The Emperor's soldiers are the banners of the Empire, and a banner must be free of dirt_. Such was the mantra drilled into her head from the years at the Academy. Now, as her boots echoed across the dimly lit street, she could fully grasp why the Commandant had stressed orderliness. It was what set them apart, what kept the servants of the Emperor from the filth of Taris. It was the armor that had brought a measure of security to her homeworld, and she would gladly sacrifice several hours every night to keep it in fashion.

She marched along with one of her platoon's troopers, DT-8208, different patrols of two covering the whole sector efficiently. Every Stormtrooper was outfitted with their signature E-11 blaster rifles, polished as clean as the white armor they wore. Equipped to their belts were rations, blaster power packs, and thermal detonators. Their helmets were rigged with HUD systems as well as commlinks and encryption modules, top-of-the-line equipment only available to the Empire's best. A helmet or piece of armor from a Stormtrooper could make one rich, especially on Taris's struggling economy, and Renee was very well aware of the fact. Just in the last quarter of rotations had three stormtroopers on the adjacent block been killed for their armor, much as an animal would be killed for its hide.

As they walked, toxic-coated mud that made most of the ground in the Taris slums coated their boots, occasional droplets being sent up and onto their armor. The brown-green sludge contrasted brightly against the plastoid white, and Renee grimaced every time another splash hit her calves. The treads of the soles did little much against the thick mud, forcing the stormtroopers to slog through it as if they were in a swamp. The environment was just as hostile as were a wild planet; gangs formed to take out revenge on the Imperial Army had taken guerrilla warfare to the extreme, and Imperial response had been hard. Now almost half of the loyal Imperial citizens on Taris were informants to the Empire on different levels, and even artillery such as the new AT-ST walker marched through the muddy streets on patrol for miscreants and anarchists.

It was currently twilight, quickly fading into night and the 'ever-fog,' as it was deemed by the locals, was beginning to set in. The fog routinely appeared every night from the damp and cold conditions, masking everything in a soupy gray coat, making visibility nigh-impossible. The fog even messed with Stormtrooper HUD systems and short-range scanners; which just made it easier for insurgents to get at their targets.

The streets just made up another part of the dull routine of a stationed Stormtrooper on Taris. The pattern of the mind-numbing footsteps made a dull rhythm of routine, counting off subconsciously in Renee's head. Yes, she was in gratitude and even glorified the Empire, but that did not mean that everyday duty wasn't boring.

"Lieutenant, ma'am, Sergeant DT-6810's transponder has not pinged in fifteen minutes. Command suspects gang violence."

Renee's breath hitched. Sergeant DT-6810 had been in her pre-graduate platoon in the Academy; she knew him to an extent, and he was a valuable soldier and comrade. Even more important was the insult that the attack represented against the Empire. These gangs would be dealt justice swiftly and decisively. She didn't turn her head when she gave the order. "We move now."

The two stormtroopers hustled along the street to the transponder's last location, two more joining Renee from the adjacent bloc. Toxic mud sprayed and sloshed from the stamping of their boots, and their ragged breathing was amplified by the transponders located in their skull-white helmets. Renee's left hand flipped the switch on the side of her blaster from 'stun' to 'kill.' She didn't discriminate whether or not these dissidents were brought in alive - one way or another, they would die for defying the Empire.

A scream alerted the stormtroopers to the presence of the insurgents; it was natural that the scum and rabble they were would harass innocent Imperial citizens just as they murdered loyal Imperial soldiers. They turned at an alley, pivoting on their heels as they sent mud splashing behind them, blasters raised with headlights illuminating the quickly-darkening alley. Suddenly, something long and metal spun out of the alley at them, taking one of the stormtroopers in the forearm. He dropped his blaster and with a strangled cry grasped the knife now imbedded in his armor. It shouldn't have caused major damage through the plastoid-composite suit, but Renee knew from experience how deadly vibro-knives could be.

She raised her sights, motioning for her companion to follow her while the injured stormtrooper was dragged to safety. She squinted her eyes; through the dusk and damp fog, barely anything was discernible and she turned up the brightness of her pointlight, only to reel back in shock and appealing disgust; she had found the body of the Lieutenant, matted in blood and bare of any armor. It was not the corpse that had set her off - she had seen many dead bodies in her short life - but it was the two or three vagabonds rushing through the darkness out her, vibroknifes glinting, that sent an adrenaline rush through her. Picking up her blaster, she stepped back as she shouted something vague, the ambush dulling her normally pristine protocol. One red bolt straight through the heart sent the first ambusher down; it was good, luckily Renee had not lost her shot, but her next two went awry, missing completely. A second ambusher went down, thanks to her partner, but before she could do anything the third man was atop of her growling as he raised his vibroblade up in the air, before plunging it down. The vibrating durasteel blade cut through Renee's plastoid armor as if it was mere cloth, puncturing through her bodyglove and inter her flesh.

Renee let out a massive scream as she could feel her body convulse under the blade. Her vision was starting to fade, and she knew that unless she acted fast, she would be a goner. Grabbing her pistol from its holster, she snarled in return as she turned it until it was facing point-blank at the man's chest. She didn't hesitate pulling the trigger, and as soon as the red glow filled the man's chest and nothing but a gaping, charred hole was left in his chest, did she know that she might have a chance. Light-headed, she fumbled as she keyed off the vibrating blade, waiting to pull it out so she wouldn't lose a fatal amount of blood. Once she got to the Imperial med center, she was sure that they would patch her up.

DT-8208 rushed over to her, assessing her wounds before calling for back up. The rest was a blur; she had lost a large amount of blood already and was fading in and out of consciousness. The last thing she remembered before fully blacking out was the bright lights of an Imperial walker and the shouts of Stormtroopers and medics as they filed past her, lifting her in the air and into the transport. A medic kneeled down as the transport climbed in the air, pulling out the vibroknife and inserting a bactapatch. "DT-7296, don't fade. Once we transfer you to Medcenter TA-801, you'll be fine."

As Renee's vision faded, she hoped that the medic was right.


	3. Chapter 2

_**TARIS MEDCENTER TA-801**_

 _ **12 BBY, SEVERAL DAYS LATER**_

Chapter Two

" _Medical anomalies stabilized. Terminal risk minimal. Permanent damage absent."_ Renee listened as the medical droid listed out her conditions and terms to the quartermaster standing by. He looked at Renee, lying in her bed of white sheets in the medical wing, a large white bandage wrapped over her right chest, where the vibroblade had driven into her body during the ambush. It still ached, but she was breathing fine and the blade hadn't punctured a lung, which would have resulted in more serious and lasting damage.

"You'll be given three days for rehabilitation before return to duty, Lieutenant. Your deployment orders will be waiting for you in your barracks. Dismissed." The officer turned on heel and marched out, not hesitating and not waiting for any response from Renee. She was indifferent to it - the Imperial Army was all about procedure and formality, with no room for emotions or personal feelings - but she couldn't help but feel slightly offended that the officer hadn't seemed to care at all that one of his stormtroopers had been hurt, nevermind the patrol that had been killed already.

The ambusher's bodies had been tagged and ID'd, revealing them to be miscreants part of a gang that had been causing quite a bit of trouble for the Empire recently in the block adjacent to the one Renee had patrolled. That area had once been home to an industrial plant before the war, now bombed out acidic ruins that acted as a home for prostitutes, spice addicts, and gangs such as the one that had attacked the patrol. The indiscriminate killing was no problem for the Empire - they had hundreds of thousands of navy troopers and stormtroopers planetside - but the ambush had turned out to be the third one that rotation, and they seemed too concerted and well-planned to be random street violence.

Nevertheless, that was a problem for the higher ups in command to worry about, not a lowly lieutenant like Renee. If her superiors knew better, than who was she to question it?

"Nice of you to finally show up, DT-7296. We were beginning to think that you had jumped in an acid pit or something." DT-7032, the lively jester who had directed the jibe towards Renee, grinned as she saw her superior role her eyes in exasperation. Although only a sergeant and Renee's subordinate as a member of her platoon, DT-7032 seemed unmanageable and it was hard to convince her to straighten her act. Renee was not a harsh disciplinarian, a rare trait among the legions of stormtroopers in the Empire, and it was probably due to her soft tactics that DT-7032 was the way she was. At least she was a competent soldier that could take orders (for the most part), or Renee would've requested she be transferred out of her division the first day out of the academy.

"I hope you've done more than lounge around, DT-7032." Renee picked up a datapad with a list of orders, routine chores, and other assignments and bulletins for herself and her platoon. She was accustomed to regularly finding a datapad like this in her barracks, but she hadn't been at base for several days and the electronic list was twice as long. "If Colonel Neeva finds your quarters messy, you know he'll give you commissary duty for a week."

"Commissary duty's fun. All I have to do is dish out food while you guys do all the janitorial work."

Renee found herself rolling her eyes again but didn't bother to respond, flicking through the datapad as she tried to focus on the list of orders it had. It would be bad if she showed up unprepared to a briefing, or worse, if her platoon itself was not briefed on any important issues that had cropped up. And by the four moons of Taris was there a big one; in fact, probably the biggest one since Renee had graduated from Taris. Moff Taejon, the most important man on Taris and both the top government official and military leader residing on the ecumenpolis, was inspecting their quadrant in and Colonel Neeva was adamant in demanding that any insurgents or any other presence that might compromise the stability of his quadrant be captured or destroyed, which ultimately meant more patrol duty for Renee's sighed, walking into the closet to change out of her medical wraps and into her uniform. Announcing new patrol duty, especially more patrol duty, was never a popular move to make as a commanding officer, but what choice did Renee have?

It didn't take long to gather everyone into the briefing room adjacent of the commons, most in their 'casual' dress uniform and a few in their stormtrooper armor, fresh off of the streets with mud still stinking on their calves. Several more seats were vacant - the stormtroopers still on patrol - but they would be informed of everything of importance from the briefing in due time. After she made sure everyone was present, she walked up to the front of the room, rapped her knuckles on the podium and called for order. The room went deathly silent; discipline was one of the strengths among the ranks of the Empire, no matter where you went. She quietly cleared her throat before keying her datapad.

"After the ambush three days ago, Moff Taejon has personally ordered that our quadrant be cleared of deviants before his inspection in a week," she read in a flat tone to the mutters of intrigue and cautious curiosity to her audience. The quadrant they lived in and patrolled was nothing special, just another slum in Taris unlike no other. The fact that the Moff was visiting them meant that something extremely wrong had happened; besides Colonel Neeva and a few logistic officers, no one had been informed of any specifics regarding any of the attacks in the sector, a policy that made gathering information for any no-good-doers more painful and ultimately more likely to fail, given that standard rank-and-file stormtroopers were unaware of anything important or intelligence that might be compromising. Renee knew all of this, yet she felt no obligation to inform her platoon of it and simply continued. "You'll report to the staging ground in full armor, cleaned and more pristine than ever. In the meantime, we have double patrol with a note from the Colonel that all restrainers are off - if you see any sort of malcontent, you are officially advised to kill as to deter any future activities."

More mutters, some intrigued and some skeptical. The more bloodthirsty were almost jumping in celebration that they had free-fire, but the more compassionate or timid ones were more nervous of the orders. There were quite a few in Renee's platoon that didn't even have a kill on their records outside of the simulator, and they would no doubt be adverse to these new and ruthless tactics. Nevertheless, they, like any other stormtrooper or member of the Imperial Army, knew better than to disobey a direct order and Renee didn't need to remind them. "Dismissed."

No matter how much time Renee spent in a medical wing, the streets and slums of Taris were muddy and foggy as ever, an observation that none appreciated. The alleys and main roads seem to be even more deserted than usual, an achievement already hard to achieve for the sparse streets of Taris. It was common knowledge than no one 'hung out' in the slums; you were on the streets for a purpose, or else you were hiding in your dwelling or some cantina. The Empire knew this too, much to the disadvantage of the citizens there, and random frisks, stop-and-searches that resulted in some charge and dragging the unfortunate soul to a holding cell, had become increasingly often since the last attack. The increased crackdowns had only made civilians more scared to walk out in the daylight, which meant now that the street Renee and her patrol were walking down was essentially devoid of any life besides the stormtroopers.

The size of patrols had been increased as well, from pairs to an entire squadron; about six or seven soldiers in total, depending on whether or nor their commanding officer was joining them. It was even more common to see the new TX-225 GAVw combat assault tanks, dubbed as ' _Occupier_ ' tanks by stormtroopers who saw and drove them solely because of their role in subduing areas under seige or in stages of rebellion. They were slow, but sturdy and powerful with the optional ability to transport heavy loads of cargo and even the sticky toxic mud of Taris didn't slow their treads as they lumbered through the city. Every so often they would stop in front of a ransacked building or depot to perform a brief inspection, but for the most part they were merely to terrorize the populace into compliance: apart of the 'peace through fear' doctrine embraced by the Empire. It wasn't pretty, but by judging the sudden drop in attacks during the aftermath of Renee's ambush, it was starting to work.

They continued to walk, mud sloshing and getting all over their armor which would no doubt take ages to get off (Renee had begun to wonder why they hadn't given them wet-weather gear or even the trappings of one of those mudtroopers), Renee's comm buzzed the pattern that identified a message from command. Imperial Comms had unique codes for different message, and from the pattern she recognized that it was probably Colonel Neeva. Ordering her squadron to stop, she keyed the comm and projector as the troopers huddled around her to see what it was. To no one's surprise, it was Neeva, just as Renee had predicted. He had become increasingly testy as Moff Taejon's inspection drew nearer, and sudden commands or new orders were quickly becoming the norm. His blue holographic image illuminated the rain drenched stormtroopers as they huddled around the holoprojector in Renee's palm. His hands were crossed behind his back, his posture was pompous and regal, and there was a vein pulsing in his temple that Renee had been starting to come accustomed to these days.

"Lieutenant DT-7296. Recent intelligence has informed us that the gang of miscreants involved in earlier insurrection is headquartered inside this building _here_ ," he said as the location and geographic information was automatically uploaded to the HUD of the troopers. "This intelligence has been deemed credible. You are to raid the building and capture all present, whether or not they appear innocent in the moment - ISB will sort that out. You may take as many troopers as you need, and lethal force is both authorized and advised. I expect successful reports within the next rotation."

Renee confirmed she heard the orders before keying off the comm, the bright blue illumination fading away. Of course, they had all been expecting orders like this at some point; a crackdown of the gangs still in the quadrant was inevitable. That did nothing, though, to stop the sudden rush of adrenaline that was flowing through the veins of Renee and most likely her squadron, causing her hand to slightly shake as she shuffled the safety of her blaster from stun to kill. A large rush of blood to her head caused by the excitement of impending conflict caused her vision to blur for a second, but she shook her head slightly to clear it. The moment before battle was the most important in terms of getting her mind focused and ready, and the ache of her wound from only a week ago served as a reminder of what happened when she wasn't prepared. She turned to her squadron, gave a slight tilt of her head in acknowledgement, then signaled for them to make their way to the building. There was no reply; only the squelch of boots marching in unison through the mud told her that her soldiers were following in line. Blaster at the ready, she signaled several other sergeants leading squads of her platoons as to rendezvous with her at the gang headquarters - she reckoned that at least thirty fully armed stormtroopers would be more than enough to eradicate the rebellious band of miscreants - but that didn't stop her from keying in an ' _Occupier_ ' tank as well. Any extra support was both welcome and necessary to a doubtless success, and she hardly wanted to even imagine Colonel Neeva's response to a mission failure.

It took them only a few minutes for the forces to all gather at the rendezvous, away out of the line of sight of the targeted building and behind a burned-out hull of some derelict and ancient starship. As Renee quickly did a headcount and got assessments from various squad leaders, she estimated that she had around thirty to forty stormtroopers with her, and she could hear the treads of a TX-225 GAVw tank as it continued to lumber its way to the ramshackle base of operations. It was absolute silent; Renee had ordered that all non-essential chatter was forbidden, as she was extremely cautious to not alert the gang hidden away inside the tenement. But it wasn't like the stormtrooper squadron couldn't move forever, and slowly but steadily the stormtroopers filed out from behind the burnt wreck and to the front of the building. The building in question rose about four or five stories high and was probably as ancient as Taris itself, its duracrete walls peeling and crumbling all-around. The stormtroopers stared up at the tenement in silence, the only sounds heard being the cock of a blaster or a crow of the local nightlife. Renee filed to the front of the pack, motioning them to the front doors as the stormtroopers seemed to remember their purpose. Each squadron split off to different entrance points, each with a battering ram of sorts or a charge to blow away the door. Renee paused, waiting for all squads to plant their charges and get in position before giving the signal. It was go time.

The charges detonated with a not-so-quiet bang, and several floors up lights were thrown on and shouts were heard. _No time to wait_ , Renee thought as the stormtroopers charged into the building at all sides, blasters raised and ready to fire. All Imperial combatants had taken time to mentally prepare themselves to kill, and it was likely that it would come to this moment to make their fatal decision. Yet despite what seemed like a chaotic invasion, it was more routine than expected, and for the first two floors it was just troopers going from room and room and announcing that it was clear of any life. In the third corridor on the second floor, stockpiles of medical supplies and calorie packs were stuffed into a corner, and one trooper stayed behind to tag the location while the other squadrons rushed upstairs.

Running onto the fourth floor - time was of the essence now, Renee knew, and she had ordered that the force be split in half to cover twice the area in the same amount of time - Renee elbowed open a door, her E-11 blaster rifle the first thing to enter the room. Instead of war-hungry militants, however, she was surprised instead to hear the cry of a small child and a whimper of the mother holding her. They were dirt-streaked and destitute, only wearing rags to cover what modesty they had and both were sprouting identical green head-tails, immediately identifying them as Twi'leks. The Twi'lek mother and child were both hiding in a corner and gave another scream of terror as they saw the muzzle of Renee's blaster rifle facing down at them. Renee paused, slightly surprised not to see non-combatants but that it was a mother and her child, not some sick gang member or injured rebel. "Stay here," she said as she turned to one of her squad members; innocent or not, she was ordered to round up _all_ residents of the tenement, and this woman and her child were included in that number.

The raid, in total, only lasted ten more minutes or so. Everyone in the tenement turned out to be similar to what Renee had found; women and children, no men and no weapons, either. Yet that didn't satisfy her or the Colonel, and as the civilians were corralled into a circle to keep order, ISB inspectors from headquarters went throughout the building IDing and tagging various scorches on walls, food items and rooms to find evidence, any evidence, that would make both this raid and their time worthwhile. This process carried out for over an hour, while all the time the women stood in the cold of the night, holding children and infants close to their own bodies for warmth. They were an assortment of species - mainly human - and none of them look liked they had enough money to purchase food for themselves, as if they were the epitome of destitution.

"DT-7296, mission report."

Renee turned around, startled to see Colonel Neeva himself facing her, battle armor over his officer's uniform and pistol holstered at his hip, hands clasped behind his back. Renee straightened in a salute before giving a response. "No casualties nor injuries, sir. All residents have been corralled in front of the building and ISB is inspecting the tenement for any suspicious items or criminalizing evidence."

Neeva nodded, taking on a thoughtful look as he strode past Renee, who was still standing at attention. Waving for Renee to follow him, she turned on heel to find him facing the group of innocents. He stood in the same manner as he did when addressing Renee, haughty and proud. He surveyed the crowd with a disdainful eye; Neeva was an offworlder, an officer stationed on Taris by the Empire out of necessity, and the fact that his homeworld was somewhere in the Core was the only thing that Renee really knew about the man. Neeva finally spoke, but his tone was not kind or understanding, hardly a surprise to Renee. "Which among you will speak for the whole?"

At length an older women stepped out, a human. She was bent from age and had leathery skin with snowflake white hair, a rare occurrence in the Taris slums when life expectancy was at an all-time low. "We have done nothing against the Empire or your stormtroopers. Why do you have us out in the night with sick children and babies?"

"What you have or not have done will be decided by me," Neeva responded coldly. "Now, has this building gave shelter to a rebellious and criminal organization known as the _Blood Angels_?" There was silence from the crowd. The woman stood there defiant but tight-lipped, appearing as if to be deciding on her words carefully. _Good for her_ , Renee thought. Any misstep could draw the Colonel's ire, and that was not a thing that in the middle of night surrounded by stormtroopers one would want to do. As Renee looked around, she noticed that stormtroopers from her platoon had formed a circle around the captured innocents, creating a barrier between them and the Colonel.

"If you will not answer, then you will all be arrested and be questioned in a detention center," Neeva smirked, taking visible pleasure from the flinches and looks of shock and fear from the women at his mention of the infamous Taris detention centers. People that went into the widely feared detention centers hardly ever came out, bearing terrible scars and deformed features if they did make their way out of the place. Yet even that threat did not cause any of the women to step forward, and this displeased Neeva to a great extent. "Very well then. If you will not answer, then let us make it permanent."

He raised a hand and the stormtroopers around the circle raised their blasters, pointing it squarely at the chests of the gathered crowd. Shrieks of fear and pleading rang out and the crowd all instinctively shuffled away from the soldiers and into each other, mashing together even more tightly. Suddenly, a different women, the Twi'lek mother that Renee had initially encountered, stepping forward to face the Colonel in defiance with her hands balled in determination. "They left three days ago! We didn't do anything!"

Neeva smiled, showing his teeth, and Renee internally groaned. The Twi'lek had just condemned their entire group, and looking at Neeva's face Renee knew that she was right. "So you admit to aiding and abetting enemies of the Empire. Tell me, pretty girl, do you know what the punishment for treason is in the Empire?"

The Twi'lek did not respond, but her eyes widened and she suddenly looked not quite as fierce as she had just moments ago. Neeva noticed this and his smile widened, but his eyes were as cold and cruel as ever. "I'll tell you right now. The punishment is death," he said with an off-hand smirk, turning to Renee in question as he nodded. "Lieutenant?"

Swallowing, Renee turned slowly to face the huddled mass as she raised her blaster. She knew exactly what the Colonel wanted her to do, but as she began to give the order the words stuck in her throat. She tried again, but she couldn't muster up the courage nor the malice to give a killing order and lowered the tip of her blaster slightly.

"Lieutenant?" Neeva was in her ear now, and his voice was deadly calm and dangerous. Renee swallowed, before raising her blaster again. If she didn't give the order right now, it would be her life on the line and the women and children facing her would still be dead. Reluctantly, closing her eyes and looking away from both Neeva and the Twi'lek mother that now stood facing her, she nodded slightly. "Fire."

Immediately on command, the women and children were lit up by blaster fire as the stormtroopers fired indiscriminately, effectively massacring the mass in mere seconds. Renee did not fire, but watched the execution in disgusted shock and horror, closing her eyes again as the brief screams of the congregation of women and children were extinguished, only leaving the hissing of smoke and the silent noises of the slums as a mere echo. Neeva walked up to the body of the woman who had just earlier defied him, spat, and kicked at her corpse before turning to Renee. "Burn the bodies, or whatever you want, but dispose of them immediately and destroy the building after ISB has finished their inspection, All evidence is to be brought back to command. Dismissed."

Renee turned back slowly to look at the pile of corpses, slowly sinking into the mud. A dry sob escaped her, but that was all she could muster for the dead children and women, the blood that was now on her hands. Her tear-streaked face hidden by her helmet, she turned to her right and her HUD identified the stormtrooper as DT-7032. "Sergeant, begin to load all contraband on the TX-225. I . . I will handle the bodies." As DT-7032 nodded, her face concealed by her helmet but the same lively spring in her step, apparently unhampered by the atrocity she had just committed, Renee turned away from the massacred citizens, her head still spinning. What had she just done?


	4. Chapter 3

_**TARIS IMPERIAL GARRISON TA-S13**_

 _ **ONE WEEK LATER**_

Chapter Three

It had been a week since Moff Taejon's surprise visit had been announced. A week since the raid on what had been surmised as the Blood Angel's former headquarters. And it had been a week since Renee had been forced to give the order to massacre civilians, innocents, women and their children. And although she let no one see it, Renee was not off for the better because of it. The raid on Blood Angel headquarters had been celebrated as an achievement of the garrison like no others, and Renee had been elevated to the position of Captain with more than just a platoon to look after. She had been celebrated as a hero, stoically charging into the headquarters and efficiently capturing contraband and treasonous rebels, executing them without mercy all for the glory of the Empire. More than just one toast had been made to her, and even DT-7032 had sincerely congratulated her on her promotion. Of course, Renee had always dreamed of becoming a Captain, but the manner in which she earned it - murdering innocents in cold blood - was enough to make her stomach sick. Wearing the uniform and rank insignia of the position felt like spit in the face of the Twi'lek mother and her child, and this bizarre sort of traumatic distress had caused her to only wear the officer's uniform when necessary.

It had affected her sleeping patterns, her circadian rhythm. She found it hard to arrive to posts and commissary hours on time, she was always late for briefings, and she felt hardly any more motivation or loyalty towards the Empire after what they had done. She had tried to make her feelings clear to Colonel Neeva, or at least, had tried to ask him why they had been forced to kill the mass of obvious civilians. The meeting had not gone as well as she predicted, and even she had known by asking the Colonel the question she was treading on eggshells. The Colonel's response, therefore, was an expected one: "It was merely to set an example for others that might dissent from the Empire," and, "They had aided and abetted rebels. They themselves were traitors to the Empire." They were unsatisfying for Renee, but the Colonel had warned that her talk sound dangerously traitorous, and not befitting a member of the Stormtrooper Corps, and much less one that had just been promoted to Captain within the Empire's ranks. So she had silently accepted the answers given to her and move on. Or at least, she had tried.

At the very least, Moff Taejon's visit was due today, so that meant that she had something to focus on instead of her spiralling mental depression. Hours had gone into polishing and shining her dirty armor, more time into making sure troops in her company - she commanded a company of four platoons now, thanks to her promotion to captain - and although it was monotonous and uneventful, it was the type of mindless work that Renee needed to clear her head. Commanding a company took a considerable amount of work more than it did a platoon, and no matter any misgivings she had, she still felt a responsibility to be an adequate commanding officer, at the very least.

At long last, her platoon had assembled with the rest of the garrison in the makeshift parade grounds inside the compound. On every other day it was simply the courtyard, usually filled with artillery, munitions and supply crates but that had all been cleared out, making way for a temporary avenue paved in the center flanked on either side by platoons, dressed in their signature white battle armor cleaned of all dirt and mud, leaving only the polished gleam of the plastoid in the smoggy sunlight. Black-and-white battle standards were draped on lances held by navy troopers, who stood in front of the troopers and right off of the landing pad where one of the new _Lambda-_ class had touched down, its hull white and spotless. It had no dents, no scrapes and looked as if it had just come out of the drydocks, which was a possible reality given that the shuttle model had only just been made available to military forces outside of the Core. It was sleeker than the _Theta_ -class shuttles that Renee had become accustomed to, with a modern design finished off with a hull in imperial white.

The shuttle touched down, finally, lowering its extending ramp as coolant vents hissed steam from the underbelly of the _Lambda_. Out of it walked an honor guard of four Coruscant Defense Shocktroopers, their red-and-white armor easily distinguishable from the Taris garrison troopers. Behind him, along with a number of petty officers and senior adjutants, came the first glimpse that Renee had of the tall frame of Moff Taejon. She had never seen the man and knew little of him, but she had heard the rumors of his days as a Captain in Naval Intelligence, of the roundups and executions he had ordered as a part of the retribution campaign against dissidents on Antar IV.

As he stepped out of the shadow of the shuttle and into the foggy sunlight of Taris, Renee was able to get a better look at him, and as he turned his head in her direction a clean-shaven, gaunt face with bright, intelligent eyes stared towards her, as if he was looking directly through her helmet, past her eyes and into her head. The moment lasted only a second, his eyes moving on as his gaze continued along the line of stormtroopers, but to Renee it felt as if he had looked at her for the span of a lifetime. Unknowingly her pulse had quickened and she had begun to perspire, the atmospheric regulators inside her helmet quickly adjusting to protect the lenses of the goggles from fogging up, and it took a couple of slow, deep breaths to slow her heartbeat back down.

As Moff Taejon reached the end of the procession, he was greeted by Colonel Neeva who stood at attention. Taejon nodded and seemed to say something to Neeva, who nodded and gave a welcoming smile as he responded. Renee was too far away to hear what they said, but she assumed that it was nothing more than diplomatic banter. The two men began to head towards the interior of the garrison, towards the administrative offices and officer quarters, and one of the adjutants signaled for the stormtroopers to head back to their barracks once the men had crossed into the garrison and the blast doors had closed. Renee breathed a sigh of relief - she wasn't certain why, but the aura given off by Moff Taejon made her feel uneasy, like she was in a situation where she had to choose whether to fight or flee. Whatever it was, she was glad that it was over and that they could return to their usual tasks.

* * *

Renee's assumption turned out to be unfortunately wrong. It hadn't been a full hour since she had left the parade grounds before a communication at the barracks signaled that none other than Moff Taejon requested her, in uniform, at his office in exactly fifteen minutes. Renee had been in the mess hall, and she had barely enough time to clean up, change from her armor into her officer's uniform, and make it to the Moff's temporary office in time.

She inserted one of her code cylinders into the repository on the side of the door, and a green light gave her a few seconds to slide the cylinder back into her breast pocket before the doors slid open, Renee entering without any need for further cue.

The inside of the office was spartan, most likely due to the fact that Taejon would only use it for a few days, at most. A metal desk sat in the middle of the room, a holoprojector installed in the middle of the desk and a comfortable chair placed behind it in which sat Moff Taejon himself. As Renee entered and came to attention, he gave a gracious smile and signaled for her to be at ease. He glanced at a datapad, as if to make sure he had her name right, then sat it down before turning to fully address her.

"Captain Meruo, I must say that I am quite impressed with your resume given to me by your commanding officer. The capture and execution of those criminal insurgents stands out compared to the paltry efforts made by others in this sector."

He picked up a glass of some sort of dark-red alcoholic beverage that Renee hadn't noticed when she had first entered and took a sip out of it, keeping his eyes on Renee the entire time. Renee gave a half-smile in thanks, but she didn't really know what to say. She had seen those 'insurgents,' and she knew that most of them probably hadn't even held a blaster. Why was the Empire so concerned on naming people things they weren't. She didn't dare voice these opinions to Taejon though, so she remained quite. Taejon paused to swallow his sip of wine before continuing, setting the glass down as he said, "But unfortunately, your success was not sufficient to quiet these insurgents into submission, and further activity could threaten the stability of the Empire in this system. Activity like this inspires others, and like a contagious disease, if these criminals are not contained then their ideals could spread out of Taris into neighboring systems, infecting the entire sector. I don't have to tell you this for you to know that instability is unacceptable."

Renee nodded, swallowing. She wasn't sure what exactly she had been called in for, and the Moff continued to be ambiguous. "I agree-"

Moff Taejon held up his hand, silencing Renee and indicating that he wasn't finished. "I know that you have only been recently promoted to Captain, but the Empire must step up to these threats and adapt to effectively counter them. Now, if I'm correct, your admission profile says that you originate from this pit?"

Renee nodded, taking little offense towards Taejon's slur against Taris. He was quite right to call it a pit, and besides it was one of the lighter insults against Taris, especially compared to the ones that Renee had invented herself.

Taejon nodded, taking very little time to compute her response. Standing up, he punched a few keys into the datapad before clearing his throat in an official manner. "Captain Meruo, I've decided to transfer you from your garrison to command of Delta Company of the 105th Legion, my personal detachment. Your assignment will be to round up all dissidents, their leaders captured and their soldiers executed. I hope that you find success where your commanders have not - the future of Taris rests on it."

Renee breathed in and out to help her process what Taejon had just said. She was now being promoted _and_ transferred, to Taejon's personal legion, just at the time where she wasn't even sure where her true allegiance should lie. But to refuse would incite suspicion, and to denounce would earn her a prison sentence for life, if not a fate similar to the dissidents that she had just been tasked with eliminating. She tried to contain the mounting dread forming in her stomach as she managed to stammer, "Thank you, Sir - I mean, Moff Taejon. I'll do my best."


	5. Interlude

_**IMPERIAL PALACE, CORUSCANT**_

 _ **ONE DAY AFTER MOFF TAEJON'S ARRIVAL AT TARIS**_

Interlude

The Imperial Palace stood out among the skyscrapers and administrative buildings of Coruscant's capitol district. Once, as if it was in a forgotten memory, it had been the temple and headquarters of the mysterious Jedi Order. But the Jedi had been branded as traitors of the Empire and had been swiftly prevented from completing their mission of killing the Emperor and seizing power for themselves, an attack that had left the Emperor permanently disfigured and had led to the swift destruction of the entire Order, ridding the galaxy of their stain.

At least, that was what the public was led to believe.

Moff Wilhuff Tarkin was one of the few people who suspected the truth. No, he was not some anti-imperialist traitor like the Jedi, but he suspected that the attack on the Emperor more had to do with the ancient conflict between the religious cults of the Jedi and Sith than with any sort of power-scheming plot that the Imperial Holonet purported, but it mattered very little to Tarkin. The Jedi were now extinct, their religious cult extinguished from the galaxy to allow the power of technological might to rise to its true potential. Tarkin had long believed that the future of the Galaxy lay not with the Force, the mystical power that seemed to only manifest itself in a few beings, but with technology and innovation lay the key to true power and domination.

It was that ideology that had led to the creation of the Tarkin Initiative, designed to install peace through terror, and terror through might. Already, Tarkin knew, top designers at Kuat Drive Yards were working to assemble a new prototype of star destroyer, many times bigger than the _Venator_ -class and much more destructive. It would be the first of a long campaign to modernize and establish the Imperial Military as the sole force capable of subduing the entire galaxy, but progress was being made.

As he climbed the steps of the Imperial Palace, he couldn't help but marvel at the changes that had been made to it and Coruscant itself in one year. For the most part of the last year, he had been in the Western Reaches eliminating pockets of Separatist resistance that continued to hold out even after the war's end. There had been that rather nasty business on Antar IV, and troopers on Jabiim were still subduing the pesky commandos that had implanted themselves into the mud planet. Nevertheless, he was confident that all areas of resistance would be completely dominated in a couple of months, so a visit to Coruscant - more of a request, really - he allowed himself to take.

The massive stone spires of the Imperial Palace, with a banner of the black Imperial emblem on a red field hanging over the sheer walls of the palace. The red-robed Imperial Royal guards stood at every entrance, while shocktroopers patrolled the perimeters and managed the customs gate that allowed vehicles carrying supplies and soldiers into the palace. Even though Tarkin was surely a recognizable to the Royal Guards at the entrance, they still required him to produce his ID Chip, which he did rather disgruntledly. Impatiently tapping his foot as the chip was scanned, they handed it back to him and waved for him to continue unabashedly. With a sniff of amusement, Tarkin surmised that protecting the Emperor meant that even an abraded Moff was not intimidating enough to cower the Guards, and he shrugged the slight off as he continued into the palace.

The turbolift trip to the throne room was short and unimportant, the lighting strobing in and out as it climbed floors up the massive temple. It was only a minute or so before the turbolift car reached the top, the doors silently sliding open to reveal the massive onyx throne room of the Emperor. Tarkin himself had never been inside of the Emperor's throne room before, the last time he had seen the Emperor in person had been only days after the Jedi attempt on his life, and he had been in Palpatine's old office that remained from his days as Chancellor. It had been on that visit that Tarkin had been promoted to the rank of Moff and sent to Antar IV, and now Tarkin was intrigued at what this visit would bring. A man of lesser intelligence would assume that the Emperor had merely called him here to congratulate his efforts, but Tarkin knew the Emperor better than that. Pomp was of little concern for the Emperor.

"Governor Tarkin. I trust that your flight to Coruscant went uninterrupted?" The Emperor called out from his simple black throne. Clad in dark brown robes, there was little to distinguish him from the throne he sat on. His face was covered by the cowl of the hood, most likely to hide the disfiguring scars that the Jedi had gave him during their attack.

The Emperor stood up, extending a welcoming arm as he beckoned for Tarkin to enter the room. Tarkin swiftly bowed before straightening his spine and giving a tight-lipped smile as was character of him. "Our esteemed Navy has ensured that virtually any travel from the Core to even the Mid Rim is safe."

Palpatine nodded slowly, as if he was lost in thought. "Good, good. And what of our rebellious Separatist holdouts?" The way Palpatine emphasized the slang term for the Confederacy, the malice that went into the enunciation made Tarkin glad he had only good news to deliver on that part.

"Insurgents on Bandomeer, Antar IV, Murkhana, Koorivar, and Raxus have all been subjugated and any trace of Confederacy sympathy has been extinguished. Fringe elements, mostly criminal gangs using decommissioned droids or frigates have popped up occasionally, but any instance of rebellion was swiftly extinguished. I provided your office with a list of names that I request to receive appropriate commendation." Tarkin spoke without emotion, but without grandeur or pomp; a trait that made him rather dislikeable as a politician but very appealing to Palpatine as a confidant and ally.

Palpatine, seeming to have come to the moment, looked at the slightly taller Moff before turning away to sit back down on his throne, resting his left arm as he raised his right almost prophetically. "I'm certain that each man will be awarded according to his success, nonetheless you, Governor," he said, pausing emphatically. "But everything has a time and place, and while you focus your efforts on the fringes of our Empire, it seems that some of our citizens at home would rather rebel when all we have brought is peace after the tragedy of the Clone Wars."

Tarkin nodded, folding his hands behind his back. He, like any other man of intelligence, knew that the formation of a new government would lead to certain amounts of disinformation and, if poorly managed, instability, but whatever insurgency that the Emperor was referencing Tarkin was unaware of. Wisley, the Moff chose to not raise his voice in question but patiently wait for what the Emperor had to say.

Palpatine, for his part, nodded as if he knew that Tarkin was oblivious of the rebels he was mentioning. After all, the Moff in charge of the sector itself had chosen to not inform the Emperor of this situation, despite the fact that the Emperor had eyes and ears everywhere in his Empire. "You are familiar with Moff Taejon, of the Ojoster Sector, are you not?"

Tarkin nodded. "He and I met each other in the Republic Judicials, so many years ago, although we have not had much contact as of recently."

"It came to my attention that a string of rebellious activity has occurred in the Taris system, a fact that Moff Taejon has declined to share with me. It has become so serious that the Moff deemed it necessary to personally preside over the hunt for the leaders of this rebel cell."

Tarkin tilted his head to the side. Significant rebel activity in one of the Empire's more prominent Mid-Rim systems was news indeed, and he wondered why Moff Taejon had not done more to quickly eliminate this threat. "May I question what this has to do with me, specifically?"

"Moff Taejon has not yet proved to me that he can adequately handle these disturbances. If he fails, then you will personally head the counter-strike against these terrorists."

Tarkin paused. It was a length to go from waging war against Separatist holdouts to taking over counter-terrorism operations from a fellow moff, but as he thought about it the assignment indicated that he was still in favor with the Emperor, and more importantly, Moff Taejon was not. He gave a courteous bow before straightening up and smiling. "I would be happy to take on this assignment, my Lord."

Palpatine gave a cold, calculating smile, almost as if he was silently cackling to himself. "Of course you would, Governor."

* * *

 _ **Hey guys!** Thank you **so much** for reading **Star Wars: Dawn of Insurrection** so far. Your continued support means so much to me. A little about interludes, these will be **smaller-ish chapters** meaning to establish a larger story and give an opportunity for **our other favorite characters** in the far, far away galaxy and how they will fit into our Taris rebellion. **Interludes** will also act as **side-plots** for the story that will help build the overall narrative and will eventually be incorporated into the main story. So stay tuned for more appearances from **Tarkin** , the **Emperor** , the **Inquisitorius** and even **Darth Vader** himself!_


	6. Chapter 4

_**TALINN DISTRICT, TARIS**_

 _ **ONE WEEK LATER**_

Chapter Four

It had been a week since Renee's promotion to Captain of Delta Company, and so far she had managed the job considerably well. Although they were still present, the nightmares and the self-doubt had largely faded, most likely because she had been so engrossed in her new duties. Going from a planetside, obscure garrison to a Captain in the 105th Legion was a big jump, an honor usually not given to some Mid Rim yokel. Yet Renee had distinguished herself, at least in the eyes of Moff Taejon, and so here she was.

Being a Captain was by no means some sort of elevated position. In her first week she had met the troops in her company and gotten used to the inner workings of the chain of command. She had been apart of her first briefing as a member of the Legion, but it hadn't been very eventful; just an announcement that new checkpoints across several districts with large _Blood Angel_ activity and a new requirement that citizens must be carrying ID cards at all times.

Now, Renee was in charge of one of those checkpoints, this one in particular manned by ten or so troops, along with several tech and maintenance officers. A large energy gate prevented easy travel through the checkpoint while a building off to the left served as a home and miniature garrison for the troops stationed at the checkpoint. A tight-beam transmissions array and heavy blaster cannon were the stars of the small base, and Renee's main duty was to ensure that her and her stormtroopers stationed there were able to protect the base and enforce the numerous laws enacted for Talinn District. And that meant station duty.

At this particular time, a line of citizens slowly shuffled forward to a smaller entrance at the side of the energy gate, a smaller gate meant for pedestrian use. Renee stood, blaster at her side, along with another stormtrooper manning the gate. As the line slowly moved, each citizen passing through the gate was patted down, scanned for any weapons or residue that could indicate illegal activity, and finally their identification cards were scanned before they were allowed to proceed through the gate. A stormtrooper stood ominously in the tower above, peering down at the line through the optics of the heavy blaster cannon.

To surmise, a direct assault on the gate would be suicide. Any attackers would have to contend with not only Renee and her fellow stormtrooper, but the blaster cannon and the other eight stormtroopers inside the station. Not only that, but any attempt would result immediately in every garrison on the planet being notified, along with Moff Taejon's personal office. Things like this made Renee glad she was an Imperial soldier, not some rebel miscreant.

As the line shuffled forward, a sudden shout got Renee's attention. Two men - a Rodian and a Devaronian - had broken into a fight, and although no weapons were drawn Renee knew that one of her prominent duties were to resolve any breakage of the peace. This, she assumed, counted as breaking the peace.

She gave a nod to her subordinate stormtrooper, and automatically he raised his blaster and walked over to the brawling men, trying to break them apart as he kept his blaster pointed at them. No one heard whether or not the stormtrooper had switched his gun from kill to stun.

The men continued brawling, and the stormtrooper became more irate, grabbing one of the Rodian's shoulders and roughly pulling him back as he pointed his blaster rifle at the other. "Break it up, you two," he warned them, the tone of his voice making it clear that the consequence for this continued disturbance wouldn't be friendly.

The Rodian tried to again lunge at his opponent, but the stormtrooper shoved him backwards into the muddy ground, sending the man off balance as mud flew everywhere. The Devaronian in turn growled, baring his sharp teeth as he turned to face off with the Stormtrooper. The bystanders instinctively backed away from the impending fight as the stormtrooper raised his blaster at the Devaronian.

Renee drew her own blaster, but she didn't raise it in some sort of offensive posture. The situation was quickly devolving into a showdown, and unless it was solved _right now_ she could have a full out firefight on her hands. She silently pushed a button on her commlink for reinforcements, and thankfully two more stormtroopers hustled out of the tower, blasters raised and shouting for the two non-humans to get on the ground. Bolstered by the arrival of reinforcements, the stormtrooper already on the scene advanced towards the Devaronian, motioning with his blaster for the brawler to get on the ground.

The red-skinned alien eyed the incoming stormtroopers, and with a snarl he grudgingly obliged, putting his hands up as he got onto his knees in the mud. As soon as he was down, the stormtrooper rushed him and pressed him down onto his front, holding his wrists together by his back; a similar scene was being played out with the Rodian as they were both cuffed and dragged to their feet.

The third stormtrooper approached Renee, nodding his head backwards to the two now-arrested non-humans. "Your orders, ma'am?"

Renee surveyed the handcuffed Rodian and Devaronian briefly before tipping her head toward the guard tower. "Lock them up and notify command that we'll need a secured transport vehicle to take them to the detention center. Meanwhile, process their ID Chips so we can identify them and put them in the register."

"Yes, ma'am." The stormtrooper gave a brief salute before beckoning to the other two stormtroopers, who began hauling the prisoners back to the guard tower. Renee breathed a sigh of relief - that hadn't escalated into something that would've been tough to handle - and turned back to her station. The crowd, still recovering from the temporary scare of the brawl, began to shuffle back into line, and soon the checkpoint was proceeding as usual but with a considerable tension in the air, as if the remaining citizens were waiting for something to happen.

The next low-life to shuffle forward was an older man, probably somewhere in his late fifties, wearing a thick woven robe over his clothes. Renee paid little attention to him, frisking him with the scanner before extending her hand wearily. "Identification, please."

The man gave a long sigh before producing a tiny chip from his robes, dropping it in Renee's palms rather reluctantly. "You know, before the Empire there was none of this identification business, and Taris was just as safe then as it was now," he said as Renee plugged the ID chip into the computer. She gave a snort of derision, but decided not to say anything and let the man continue in his delusional thoughts.

After a few seconds, the ID chip cleared and she waved the man on through, motioning for the next in line to step up. This time it was a younger man who wore a lighter brown cloak, with wider sleeves that gave a monastic sort of appearance. Under her helmet, Renee raised and eyebrow but remained silent as she held out her hand for his ID chip.

She waited for the chip to be put in his hand, but after a few seconds she turned impatiently to the man. "Identification? I don't have all day."

The man coughed before raising a hand, waving it past Renee's face. "You do not need to see my identification."

Renee felt a warm feeling wash over her, and a part of her mind wanted to agree with the man. She felt like complying, like the only thing she wanted to do was say that this man didn't need to show her his identification. But as soon as it happened, another part of her mind butted in; of course she needed to see this man's identification, it was apart of her job. To wave this man through the checkpoint without seeing his ID chip would be a gross neglect of duty.

As the trance washed away, Renee narrowed her eyes in suspicion. Why did this man not want to give her his ID in the first place. A hand closed around her blaster, and she silently pressed her comm for another trooper to join her. It hadn't even been an hour since the fight, and she was already making another arrest. "I'm sorry, sir, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to detain you to ask you a few questions."

The man tilted his head, almost quizzically as if he couldn't understand why Renee was unpersuaded. He tried again, waving his hand the other way and repeating his statement. Renee felt the same urge, but it was lesser and didn't have the same swaying effects as it had before. The hand motion and mystic aura of the man was starting to irritate Renee, and she raised her blaster higher in a threatening manner. "Sir, you're going to have to come with me."

The man cleared his throat, obviously realizing that whatever he was trying to do wasn't working, and his hand jumped towards his waist. Renee was faster though - it was like some sort of adrenaline was kicking through her body - and she caught his wrist in her offhand, all the while keeping her blaster trained at his chest. The man's eyes narrowed, and he looked almost apologetically at Renee before he extended his other palm towards Renee.

Suddenly, almost in a fluid transition from his outstretched hand, an invisible force picked up Renee and sent her flying across the length of the gate to the other side, smashing against the walls of the guard tower. As if in concert action, several people broke off of the main line and Renee from her slumped position in the mud could make out blaster rifles and pistols. _Rebels_.

The stormtrooper at the blaster cannon gave a shout of alarm, and the man - who was now holding a blaster pistol as well - raised it and fired, sending two plasma bolts clean through the plastoid armor. The accuracy and speed of the man's reaction shocked Renee and she fumbled for her own blaster, but realized that it lay on the ground a few meters away. If she tried to make an attempt to grab it, the insurgents would shoot her before she could stand up.

Fortunately, whatever sort of surprise the attackers had hoped to gain had vanished and the other nine stormtroopers were on full alert. Four of them ran out of the garrison, blasters raised and already firing as red bolts streaked across the muddy road. The insurgents took cover, sending return fire as the scene quickly became a classic firefight. Two rebels went down, but they took a stormtrooper with them. The arrival of the four squadmates gave Renee an opportunity to leap for her blaster, and she sprang from the mud, almost immediately diving and sliding in the slick gooey substance.

Her fingers closed around the grip of the blaster rifle, and they tightened around the trigger as she lifted it and fired a few pot shots at the insurgents. Her aim was wild and her shots missed completely, and now the rebels knew that Renee too was fighting. The rest of the stormtroopers ran outside of the garrison, blasters firing as Renee crouched in the mud, trying to get a target on one of the soldiers. For a second it seemed like the Imperial soldiers had an advantage, but the rebels were good, too. They hid in the crowd of fleeing civilians, and it was soon before three more stormtroopers were down with scorched holes in their armor.

Non-combatants fled from the scene, disappearing into alleyways or hiding behind whatever they could while the rebels slowly advanced. A red plasma charge dug itself into the mud besides Renee, and she shakily stood up looking for any sort of cover. Another stormtrooper fell with an anguished cry, and she watched him fall with shock. These rebels had an incredible aim, but if she got to the tower's blaster cannon she might gain the advantage. Hopefully, the tech crew inside of the tower had already alerted nearby garrisons and reinforcements were on their way, but for now it was Renee and her squadron of now four other stormtroopers. "Keep them from entering the station!" She yelled as she ran to the blast doors of the tower, sending mud flying as her boots sloshed through the thick substance.

She managed to scramble inside, only just as thuds on the closing blast doors signaled the presence of several blaster bolts aimed her way. She took a moment to breath before shaking her head into concentration. She had a job to do.

She ran to the stairs of the guard tower, the tech officers peering out to see what was the commotion pistols in hand. "Get back to your stations and alert the garrison," she barked as she stormed past them. Her feet pounded as she climbed the flight of stairs, her helmet amplifying her heavy breathing. _By the stars_ , she inwardly swore as she tore off her helmet - a serious violation of regulation, but the fall had most likely broken her cooling systems, and she needed to _breath_. She made it to the top, her thighs aching and her breathing coming in short, ragged gasps but the blaster cannon was there, and that was all she needed.

The fallen trooper stationed there was still slumped over the rampart, and with a silent apology she roughly dragged his corpse off of the blaster cannon and quickly primed it, waiting as it warmed up. It's red targeting screen came to life, and she flicked off the safety as she peered down at the sights at the rebels fighting below. From this height she had a _much_ better vantage point, and her finger closed around the trigger as she aimed towards a cluster of three rebels hiding behind a cooling vat.

She could feel the blaster cannon warming up, and she swung it around to face the cluster. One of them noticed the movement and shouted in alarm, but she smiled almost vindictively. It was too late for them. All she needed was to pull on the trigger, and her finger closed around the firing mechanism when a sudden blow came to her head, knocking her to the ground. Without a helmet to cushion the blow, the strike and subsequent fall was easily enough to immobilize her. Renee's vision swam, and when she looked to see the face of her attacker she saw the man who had started the fight. He gave another apologetic smile, as if he was sorry for the mayhem he was caused, before waving his hand a third time over Renee's face. Then her vision blacked out, and she thought no more.


End file.
